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PART II
APRIL, 1780
RATHBONE HOUSE
LONDON, ENGLAND
HER LADYSHIP, Harriet Winslow Munro, Marchioness Rathbone, greeted her guests for the Season with many delighted kisses and questions, the answers to which were interrupted as quickly as they were asked.
“Celia!” she trilled, taking Celia’s gloved hands and spreading them wide to inspect her toilette. Her face fell. “Oh, Celia, darling, how ghastly!”
“Yes, Aunt,” Celia said dully, pleased that she had managed such a grotesque concoction and, furthermore, that the rest of her wardrobe was equally grotesque.
“That lovely gown will fit so much better once your waist has been trimmed. Or your stays tightened. But I will see to your nourishment and your lady’s maid will see to your stays.”
Oh, good Lord. That. How could she have forgotten?
Lovely gown?
And overly tight stays now did nothing but arouse her beyond bearing.
“And Marianne! Oh, my dear sister, come!”
The embrace between Celia’s aunt and mother was long and, she noted, as sincere as it had ever been. Both women’s eyes were filling with tears as they clung to one another.
“Are you well?”
“I am failing, Sister,” Mary said tremulously. “The doctors fear I may not be able to make the return journey at the end of the Season. They bade me not to come this year, but I needed to see my dear sister one last time before I die.”
Aunt Harriet only squeezed her eyes tighter as more tears leaked out.
A sliver of guilt pricked Celia.
But then the moment passed when Mary pleaded weariness from the journey, and Aunt Harriet sent them upstairs.
Thus, Lady Marianne Hylton (long-lost wife of Admiral Nathan Bancroft, nineteenth Baron Hylton) (who “spends her winters in southern France with her protector”) (because of “its arid climate, which mitigates the pain from the wasting illness”) and the Honourable Celia Bancroft (long-lost daughter of Admiral Nathan Bancroft, nineteenth Baron Hylton) (the four-years-younger sister of Lucien Bancroft, captain of the HMS Grace, recently lauded in the press for extraordinary bravery at sea) (niece of Marquess Rathbone, rear-admiral and captain of the HMS Purity, equally celebrated for the same reason) found themselves once again standing silently in the chambers they had used for the past two Seasons, surrounded by a bevy of maids scurrying this way and that. George stood aside, mouth slack.
Suddenly, Celia shrieked and pulled at her chestnut wig, startling the maids (who already looked at her askance). “Out!” she screamed. “OUT!”
“Now, now, Celia,” said her mother calmly, caressing her silk-clad back.
“Out! You must go! Cease touching my things! MY THINGS!” Celia ran to one of her trunks and cast herself upon it as if to protect it from marauders.
Lady Rathbone’s sharp clap came from the doorway. “Please, girls. Do as Celia asks. You’ve shown remarkable efficiency, but Celia is special, remember. Fragile, if you will, and has brought her own maid this time, to whom she is accustomed.”
The Rathbone House maids, casting frightened glances back at Celia, fled.
Her ladyship glared at Celia. “There will be no more of that, Little Miss.”
“Yes, Aunt,” Celia whispered, her eyes wide. She gulped as conspicuously as possible.
The marchioness looked to George. “Please take care of your mistress, Birdie. I shall have a sleeping draught sent up. She has done well with it in the past.”
George bobbed the correct curtsey. “Yes, m’lady.”
The door closed, and Mary rushed across the room to lock it. Celia stood and calmly brushed off the front of her saffron gown, which made her look the veriest of cadavers. “Well?”
“A splendid performance as usual, my love,” Mary replied, stripping off her gloves.
Celia looked to George, who was still a bit discomfited, and chuckled. “Recite the history for me once again, George.”
The girl took a deep breath. “You are utterly mad. Captured by pirates when you were eight years old, spirited away to endure horrors you do not remember. Lady Hylton, as an adult woman, bore the capture better, but she still will not speak of what was visited upon her. You cannot abide for your things or your person to be touched by anyone you do not know and trust. You see everything unfamiliar as a threat and will react accordingly.”
“Good. Now try not to look so startled the next time I do that. You will have no warning.”
George, still shocked, whimpered, “Aye, Captain.” Celia huffed with great disgust. “I mean, yes, Miss Bancroft.”
“Don’t lose that sennight of training now, George—” Celia growled and huffed when her mother chuckled. “Birdie.”
That made the girl smile tremulously. “You were quite frightening, Cap—Miss. More so than when you took our ship.”
“Ah, so you believed it?”
She nodded so vigorously her mobcap fell into her eyes. She pushed it back.
Celia beamed. “Excellent!”
“Also,” Mary said briskly, “remember that Harriet is half-mad in truth. I believe she sees in Celia something of her own daughter, who truly was captured by Ottoman slavers when she was thirteen and spirited away. Harriet was held at swordpoint and forced to witness it. I cannot imagine.”
“’Twas about the same time Papa took me,” Celia interrupted, “so a double blow, that.”
“Sarah has never returned,” Mary finished. “And Harriet now rarely—if ever—acknowledges she had a daughter at all.”
“I might be convinced she thinks me Sarah returned but for that,” Celia muttered as she opened her trunk and began to empty it, flinging dresses everywhere. “My presence here seems to comfort her, though. It would be nice, I must admit, if I could pass for thirteen in any light, no matter how unflattering. Ah ha!” she said once she reached the false bottom and found the mechanism to open it. “Though my hair is not the Winslow women’s beautiful blonde, I dare say my new wigs are as beautiful a chocolate color as yours, Birdie. Put my clothes in the press.”
“Yes, Miss,” she said with a salute.
“Curtsey, Birdie,” Mary said low. “Do not dare salute her. This is no longer a game of make-believe and dress-up. Your lives are at stake.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“I cannot stand how much I paid for these rags,” Celia muttered.
“You made that modiste’s revenues for a year, my dear. Think of it that way.”
A knock sounded and Celia swiftly banished herself to the antechamber in which George would sleep, whilst footmen brought in dozens of trunks and an extra press for Mary’s wardrobe. It was a concession to Celia’s madness (and a testament to the unspoken tragedy they had endured together) that Lady Hylton chose to reside in the same chamber and sleep with Celia. It was also an excellent way for Mary to hide her extraordinarily good health and keep Celia’s frequent absences from being noted.
“I’m hungry,” Celia announced once the footmen were gone and the doors again locked. Locked doors, too, were an acknowledgment of Celia’s unpredictability and not, as the case were, yet another way for Celia’s and Mary’s masquerade to be furthered.
“And you will remain hungry for the entirety of the Season if you do not care to staff your office.”
It was true. The townhouse Celia had leased had precisely nine of her crewmen in residence—none of whom could cook. Celia cursed her lack of foresight.
Again.
The first Season, she had not eaten much anyroad, grieving as she was Talaat’s death, so she had not noticed the lack.
Last Season, she had not remembered how little Harriet fed her the year before.
This Season, she had been too caught up in thoughts of Judas to jot that item down on her list before leaving Rotterdam.
She could expect to lose a full three stone in the next five weeks, necessitating a trip back to the poor little modiste’s shop for alterations.
A reluctant smile stretched her mouth when she thought of that girl, barely older than George, paying for her dubious freedom with a lack of income and the probability of time in Fleet Prison. She could not rent a shop closer to the ton to attract more wealthy trade because she had no money, which meant more wealthy trade could not darken her doorstep because they did not know she existed. Her talent and skill were irrelevant in such a situation.
It made Celia ache to demonstrate a modiste’s freedom to Judas and that it in no way compared to Celia’s.
Madam, I pray you do not tell anyone I made these gowns for you.
I will pay you extra for my violation of all boundaries of good taste. Will that do?
Yes, ma’am. Thank you.
But if Aunt Harriet’s opinion could be trusted, the ton’s taste may have taken a turn toward the atrocious.
Another knock. Another visit from Aunt Harriet.
“Mary, do be a dear and join me in the parlor for tea. Celia, you will take tea here. Do you think yourself capable of attending a rout with me this evening or must you wait until tomorrow’s soiree after you have rested from your journey?”
“Tonight, if you please, Aunt. I do so love the music.” It was well known that frequent exposure to good music belayed Celia’s propensity to mad outbursts. Thus, she was taken to every ball and concertina, opera and musicale, as well as any other event that might have music. It was the only thing about this ruse to save Celia’s sanity.
“Splendid! You will be ready at ten of the clock. Birdie, please make sure she has an adequate nap. Have you given her her laudanum?”
“Yes, m’lady. She should be asleep soon.” Celia almost smiled at the girl’s convincing improvisation.
“Good enough then. Mary, if you please.”
• • •
“WELL?” CELIA WHISPERED when Mary returned with extra biscuits for Celia secreted away in her skirts.
“She has Nathan well in hand, though his solicitors are arguing that she is also mad and thus, not fit to defend my position as your guardian. But as long as I am alive and it’s demonstrated that you are well enough in my presence, I can retain your guardianship.”
“’Tis better than being handed over to him, I suppose.”
Mama! Mama! Mama!
Go with James, Celia, my love.
Mama! Mama, don’t make me go with him! MAMA, PLEASE!
Celia, you must. Please do not be frightened. He is a good man; he will care for you.
Get her out of my sight before I kill her!
Papa! Why would you say that?! I love you, Papa! What did I DO?! Papppaaaaaaa!!!
Go! Go, Jamie! Take her. Please!
Mama, help me, please! MAAAAMAAAAAAAA!!!
Every time Celia thought of the day Admiral Lord Hylton learned his daughter had been sired by another man, it filled her with rage. Would that he had been captaining the HMS Grace instead of Captain Lucien Bancroft. She would have made sure he’d died and Washington could have said nothing about it.
“Her solicitors are better than Nathan’s and she is a marchioness. He cannot get near you.”
“What does he want with me? And why now? He threatened to kill me! A child!” she raged. “He didn’t threaten Dunham! He threatened me! What did I do? What a bloody coward, to threaten a child for her parentage when her father is right there to be called out!”
“And too bad we cannot bring that out in the open.”
“He cannot want that any more than we do. I could break my masquerade and threaten to go to the papers.”
“Who would believe he would do such a thing? He is the darling of the admiralty and the marquess’s superior officer, who is thoroughly in sympathy with his position.”
“But! If Rathbone knew it was a great fraud he had perpetrated on everyone—and why—he would turn on him.”
“He won’t believe it. Better to play the hand we have than risk such a devastating trump.”
Celia could understand the logic. “Lord, how I wish Washington would relent. I would—” Celia gritted her teeth and circled her hands and shook them violently as if Admiral Nathan Bancroft’s neck were already there. “I despise that bastard! One chance— Just one— I’m a pirate! I don’t have to do as I’m told unless I please!”
“You’re a privateer now. You’ll lose your letter of marque.”
Celia turned away.
Mary sighed. “We could simply … leave and not return.”
“Mama, you know why we are here. This is a debt of honor, and I pay my debts.”
“You’re paying my debt,” she said low. “Not your own.”
“Your debts are my debts and I can pay them. I will discuss this no more.”
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
I can’t fap to that.
Ok, maybe…
Dude, cut me some slack. I have to have PLOT.
What’s that old saying? Not a lot of plot to get in the way of that movie?*
*Just messing around. Not an actual critique of any kind.
Bro2 referred to my work as “your lady porn” and I was like, well, I mean, it kinda is, but it’s not really, and I’m just so tired of trying to explain what is different about genre romance than Penthouse letters and and and and and
Anyway, he quickly said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t minimize your work.” It didn’t really occur to me to feel hurt until he apologized. First, that’s just what happens. Second, my family sees absolutely nothing special about my writing books because that’s just what I’ve always done.
ANYWAY. The other day, I ran across a tweet that just really summed it up.
And then someone else expounded perfectly.
TRY HARDER! VARY THE STROKE TIME AND LENGTH.
Unflappable – OK, yes.
Unfappable – TRY HARDER
Moje, I gotta say, your tagline (“aspiring odalisque”) is just “chef’s kiss*.
I’m not a fan of orientalism. I’m firmly in the Western Firster camp. The one true way to First.
Aw, thanks! ☺️
OT… just poured my first Negroni in a couple years.
💋 🥃
Butters The Destroy of Worlds peed on the couch.
We are going to have a fight to the death.
You might even say he’s causing… General Disarray?
lol
🧈🥃
I seem to have booze on the brain
Superwoman with a great voice
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5XU-5mVRc_4
cape fluttering in the breeze
As long as I have a face, she’ll always have a place to First.
You like women number 1’ing on your face?
I usually have to pay extra for that.
No kink shaming.
Its a bit overproduced but I like this one:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb7KKKxlGYo
I was triggered today by an Atlantic headline that called the “BIg Beautiful Bill” the largest upward transfer of wealth in the nation’s history.
While I’m no fan of the BBB, I can’t even grasp how mind numbingly stupid you’d have to be to buy that allowing people to keep their own money, even if services were cut at the same time, is somehow a wealth “transfer.” But people believe this shit.
The premise is basically that people don’t really own their wealth. That it really only belongs to the government which benevolently allows you to keep some of it. It’s Obama’s “you didn’t build that” bullshit writ large.
Also, fuck you Taco Bell bring back the real salsa verde sauce!
Thanks for coming to my First talk.
You’ll be there all night.
What two consenting Firsters do is none of your god damn business.
You’re reading The Atlantic.
They are communists.
And yes, the BBB is a pile of shit.
😢
I saw the episode of Seinfeld today where Elaine is dating a communist. And there was a kid screaming “Commie!” at Kramer. I was picturing how that could not be filmed in America today.
Something that really grinds my gears is how the legacy media will be quoting a subject, almost always a Democrat or leftie, and state their quote as if it is an authoritative fact only to add a disclaimer at the end that it was a statement by them.
Example A and B from the same article posted this morning:
The Senate’s unprecedented move to revoke California’s ban on gasoline-powered cars by 2035 threatens to upend the U.S.’s status as both an economic powerhouse and a world leader on climate change mitigation, Gov. Gavin Newsom told reporters Thursday.
The Senate’s 51-44 vote Thursday morning using, for the first time, the Congressional Review Act to revoke that waiver now threatens to set a political precedent of impeding upon states while “selling out” future generations who will have to live in an increasingly hotter and inhospitable world, Newsom said.
They would never take anything Trump said and manipulate readers like this. Is the writer agreeing that the Senate’s move is somehow unprecedented or quoting an obviously biased source? Because they are declaring his statements to be true, essentially.
Now from the same article when it comes to the Republican rebuttals:
“Newsom’s gas car ban was never about the planet. It was about control,” California Assembly Minority Leader James Gallagher, R-Yuba City, said in a statement. “You like your car? Too bad. Can’t afford a new one? Sucks for you. Grid overloaded? Not his problem. This wasn’t climate policy. It was punishment for not living like an activist. The rest of the country finally said no thanks.” Rep. Kevin Kiley, R-Roseville, led the House vote to overturn Newsom’s electrical vehicle mandate.
It’s a subtle sleight of hand. When it’s an opinion they don’t agree with, you get the obvious quotes (cut up so the reader knows who its coming from immediately or a short summary before hand). It’s not at all in the authoritative tone that they use when its the words of Dems.
Then you have this one:
Sen. Elissa Slotkin of Michigan, the lone Democrat to side with Senate Republicans, said she cast her vote to stand up for her constituents whose livelihoods depend on automakers like Detroit’s General Motors
It’s she said or he said with Republicans. It’s not sloppy writing. It’s a deliberate propaganda technique. I’m curious if it has a name.
Ditto news reporting on PR releases from lobbying groups. It’s not uncommon to hear the assertion put at the beginning as incontrovertible fact. So, instead of “A report released today by [favored lobbying group] finds [XYZ assertion]”, you get something like “[XYZ assertion]. That’s the conclusion of a report released today by [favored lobbying group who often aren’t even named until farther in the piece, but given a seemingly neutral description].” The astroturfing groups trying to get rid of tipping in restaurants and replacing it with some ridiculous minimum wage are a good example of the type of pressure group I’m thinking of.
There’s also framing of a story along the lines of, “Business or government plans to implement policy A. Some people say more needs to be done”, with the idea that the “more” is self-apparently true.
“He is trying to undermine the media and trying to make up his own facts, and it could be that while unemployment and the economy worsens, he could have undermined the messaging so much that he can actually control exactly what people think. and that, that is our job,” – Mika Brzezinski
That is a copy/paste quote written by a ‘journalist’. A person who writes for a living and tells us what to think. You know what I think? I think they should have paid more attention in class. Commas paired with the words ‘and’, ‘or’, ‘but’, etc. are redundant. Don’t scatter commas like confetti.
I am no pedant but then I dont claim to be a ‘journalist’.
What you are saying Bro I think Mika summed up with her accusation ‘he is trying to make up his own facts’. Yes, they make up their own facts by authoritatively stating opinions as fact. The closest thing I can find for the word you are looking for is ‘Authorial bias’. Does that work?
‘Authorial bias’ – upon further thinking I dont know if that is something taught explicitly in schools of journalism or if it is something that just comes naturally, intuitively to everyone or nearly everyone. It is certainly an effective propaganda technique. It is a way of subconsciously prepping people to accept your conclusion. The stupid person’s method is to start an argument with ‘we can agree that’ and proceed to the inescapable conclusion that leads to. I guess that is the best condensation I can think of….”We can all agree that…”
Sometimes it is not even stated, it is just picked up mid-argument and the listener subconsciously fills in the premises.
Ex. – ad for skin cream
*19yo woman sensually applying skin lotion* “Our skin cream is better than other skin creams. It comes from a secret source from a magic thing found only over the rainbow”
Assumed premise: You can get younger.
“He stated without evidence”
Not used here but I can’t recall that ever being used on a Dem/leftist. It’s blatant manipulation.
Mornin’, glibbies. Saturday’s the mid-point in my workweek, and I’ll be home in time for the Cubs v Reds matinee. I hope the holiday weekend will make the morning’s more chill than normal, but I suspect many last-minute preppers’ll be in need of stocking up.
Take care and kick ass, especially if the latter involves rest, fun *and* relaxation. Up and atom! (“…better.”)
UP AND AT ZEM!!!
Happy holiday weekend peeps!
🥩🔥🤤
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_l09H-3zzgA
🎶🎶
So, I watched The Gorge on Apple TV last night.
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt13654226/
Solid. Not breaking much new ground, but great effects, good pacing, and decent actors. Cameo by Sigourney.
https://twitchy.com/warren-squire/2025/05/24/david-hogg-jasmine-crockett-is-perfect-person-to-lead-democrat-party-n2413256
Perfect. Literally perfect.
🤣😂🤣😂🪦
That truly is a work of art. That is how thoroughly and completely the Democrat party has become a fraud. They stand for nothing, they are nothing. This is what the empty suit named Obama has wrought in his own image.
https://nypost.com/2025/05/23/us-news/kamala-harris-called-anderson-cooper-a-motherfer-after-tense-interview-on-bidens-debate-meltdown/
Never forget what a bullet we dodged.
“This motherf–ker doesn’t treat me like the damn vice president of the United States, she said to colleagues,” according to the new book “Original Sin,” co-authored by Anderson’s CNN colleague Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson.
“I thought we were better than that.”
Democrats aren’t treating Donald Trump like the President.
Well you see, Trump and his cronies don’t deserve respect and the Democrats and their representatives do and you not seeing that makes you suspect frankly because all good people can see that as clear as the nose on their face…it’s different.
Morning, glibs.
I’m up before the links hoping for a good day.
How’s everyone else doing?
Wishing the weather were better.
It’s cool, but sunny and pleasant here in SW OH. I hope it gets to your neck of the woods by tomorrow.
We usually get the same weather a few days later, so Maybe Ted will be happy monday.
Good morning, U, Ted’S., Stinky, Sean, ChipP, EfE, and Suthen!
Greetings from Tranquility Base! 😁🌞🐦
(Also lots of squirrels, but that emoji doesn’t look right on my screen.)
🐤
☕️✌🏼
At the diner pounding coffee. Very underslept.
Hope the coffee helps from the sound of your plans you need to be at least functionally alert.
Narrator: The coffee is in “pound me in the ass” prison.
Yup. I might have to spend more time taking Lily for walks and playing WoW.
0803 and no links? I demand free entertainment!
Make your own and put it up on YouPorn.
Sir, I have my sterling reputation to think of.
Indeed.
I mean, Stinky is NOT a Comedian.
Well, according to the Dashboard, this morning’s links are scheduled for…this evening. I guess until someone with WordPress-fu comes along, we can just continue to talk amongst ourselves! 😄
😲
Maybe Old Man is still in Byzantium and couldn’t quite suss out the time zone clock arithmetic?
This is why everything should be scheduled in UTC.
Don’t be silly Ted that would be even worse.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0O8m0mMDpHw
I dont hear much being made about the crime stats. The gravity of it is…stunning and oh so telling.
I saw a report last night that violent crime is down by huge amounts since Trump hired real cops. Looking around at the MSM apparently it is all Biden’s doing.
Wife had Gutfeld on this morning. Premise of the show yesterday: The only way forward for the Dems is a reckoning of the past via some sort of metaphorical tribunal.
Nope, they aren’t finished yet. They are doubling down on the double down. I dont think they are capable, they are too far gone.
https://www.breitbart.com/africa/2025/05/23/south-africa-attempts-rescue-over-180-gold-miners-trapped-underground/
Terrifying. I want nothing to do with being underground anymore.
Visiting the PA coal mine disaster site cured me of that.
https://www.quecreekrescue.org/rescue.php
In too-local news, NATO is having a big meeting in Dayton, Ohio, apparently to help fulfill its primary mission of inconveniencing Americans without providing any discernible benefit.
Today is First Bee Check Day of the year, they’ve had 3 weeks to get settled in. I’m seeing a lot of activity but it looks like the robber bees may already be busy with their game plan.
Finally the Spring weather may have turned the corner and the frost season is over. Sunshine and warmth are what my plants crave. Radishes have already popped up but no sign of the carrots/peas.
No sign of peas at the end of May? That is cold.
Step 1: Organize protests demanding “Defund the Bee Police!”
4/6 of my radishes are going strong 3 weeks in. One never sprouted. One has tied. It had some sort of developmental issue where the prout never begame a stem. I tried to prop it up, but it dropped over the prop, cut off circulation to the leaves, and withered.
The pepper plant is thriving.
That reminds me… The soil was starting to look dry on top, I have to water today.
What happens when you re-watch a favorite movie from childhood:
https://youtu.be/X5L1nldSKjg?si=lwyLKi0RFwFBBt8-
“I remembered this as an extremely romantic scene!”
The Links Fairy has brought Morning Links to all the good (and bad) little Glibs! 😃
Good morning all.
High society, bleh, I’d rather socialize with the pirates.